


heart-shaped mugs

by deluxemycroft



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Birthday, Birthday Sex, Fisting, M/M, Massage, Oblivious Bucky Barnes, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Schmoop, Smut, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:02:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29970903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deluxemycroft/pseuds/deluxemycroft
Summary: Clint surprises Bucky one morning with food and tea from Bucky's favorite cafe. But whatever could the occasion be?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	heart-shaped mugs

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday bucky! it's your day and no one else's and you get to have sex. great job.
> 
> i had the idea of both clint and bucky being really bad at dirty talk and basically just swearing at each other in bed instead, so here you go. some birthday fuckin. enjoy!

Bucky wakes up to warm hands pressing down on his back, gentle strokes that turn firm as they press in, finding knots in his muscles and easing the ache in his shoulder. His back hurts constantly, has for as long as he can remember, and he lets out a relieved groan as the pain finally eases. Clint leans forward to press a kiss to his shoulder.

“Mornin’,” Clint says, voice soft. Bucky wants to ask why he’s being treated so nicely—not that Clint ever treats him any other way—but doesn’t want to spoil the moment, so he grunts in response, arching up and back into Clint’s hands. “Want some breakfast?”

“Did you make it or did you pick it up?” Bucky asks, face half buried in a pillow. 

Clint chuckles. He runs his thumbs down the length of Bucky’s spine, one on each side, and Bucky shivers. Somehow Clint knows right where Bucky’s back hurts and he narrows in there, gently soothing away the pain and relaxing the muscles. “Had it brought in,” he replies a minute later. There’s a smile in his voice that makes Bucky peek over his shoulder. Clint looks well-rested, which is a first, and he looks happy. Something about the soft look in his eyes makes Bucky’s heart twist up in his chest. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t cook for ya. It’s from that cafe you like.”

“I like a lot of cafes,” Bucky murmurs. He tries to turn to sit up but Clint pushes him back down. Bucky doesn’t resist like he usually would, and he lets Clint spread his hands out over his shoulders and massage the tension away from the muscles around his metal arm. This arm is a lot lighter than the one Hydra gave him, but it still pulls on him.

“This one has those egg sandwiches, and the little novelty heart cups. You dragged me there three days in a row before I realized you were trying to ask me to be your boyfriend.”

Bucky groans at himself. Yeah, he remembers. He and Clint had had a _thing_ , but Bucky didn’t know how to label it, and when he’d asked Sam about what he should do, Sam had told him to take Clint somewhere romantic and talk to him about it. Bucky still has no idea why he ever listens to the guy, _or_ why he still asks him for advice, since his advice is always terrible. But it worked out in the end.

“Did they send some of the cups?” Bucky asks. “Kinda pointless to get the fancy coffee without the fancy cups.”

“I stole a couple last time,” Clint tells him, leaning away from him and letting Bucky sit up.

“You _stole_ them?”

“Okay, yeah. I bought them. I was trying to seem cool.”

“Yeah, don’t do that anymore,” Bucky says, leaning over to kiss Clint on the cheek. Clint turns his head to catch Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky smiles into the kiss, pulling back before Clint can deepen it. “What’s the occasion?”

Clint raises both eyebrows at him.

“Pretty sure it’s not an anniversary,” Bucky says, pushing to his feet and padding over to the dresser for underwear. Clint wolf-whistles at him and Bucky flips him off without looking. He pulls on a pair of boxer briefs and turns to look back at Clint, who is leaning back on his hands and grinning. “Oh, come on, Barton. Out with it. What is it?”

“How about hot/cold?” Clint suggests. “You guess, I tell you if you’re close.”

Bucky sighs and stretches out his arms and back, reveling in the pull of loosened muscles. He’s feeling a little generous so he replies, “Alright. But I’m gonna eat while I guess.”

Clint follows him out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where there’s already plates set up. Bucky frowns at the arrangement and picks up one of the novelty heart-shaped mugs and takes a sip. Good tea. “An anniversary?” he guesses, watching Clint sit at the breakfast bar and pull over a plate. Bucky sits next to him and Clint pushes the plate with more food towards him.

“Warm,” Clint finally decides after thinking about it. “It’s not an anniversary the way you’re thinkin’ about it.”

It’s a stupid game. Bucky shoots him a glare and Clint grins at him. “National holiday?” Bucky guesses, unwrapping his egg sandwich and taking a bite.

“Colder. It _should_ be a national holiday, but it’s not.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t care about any holidays this much,” Bucky agrees, smiling when Clint lets out an affronted sound.

“Hey! I care plenty about Christmas. I even have a Santa hat somewhere.”

“You made me wear it for Stark’s party last year, so it definitely exists.”

“Aw, our one shared Santa hat. How cute.”

“So domestic,” Bucky drawls, taking another bite of the sandwich. It tastes better than he remembered it did, which is nice, but he also doesn’t have anxiety curdling his stomach like he did last time he went there. “Okay, how about...you just felt like it.”

“Uh...there’s no way to answer that without making me look bad.”

“Alright, fair,” Bucky chuckles. He watches Clint pick up his own heart-shaped mug and take a deep drink and his heart twists again. Clint’s eyes crinkle at him over the rim of the cup. “I know it’s not Valentine’s Day, that was last month.”

“Yup,” Clint agrees, putting his mug down and picking up his own egg sandwich. “I was going to give you the mugs for Valentine’s but I forgot.”

“You were also in the hospital,” Bucky reminds him, eyes dropping to the healing surgery scar on Clint’s thigh. Clint shrugs one shoulder at the reminder. “I don’t know what holidays are in March.”

“International Women’s Day,” Clint volunteers. “But it’s probably not that.”

“And that stupid dayling savings,” Bucky groans. “I’m never gonna guess it.”

“Or first day of spring,” Clint says.

“No,” Bucky says, brow furrowing as he thinks. “There aren’t any other big days in March, Clint! So why did you do all this?”

Clint’s mouth thins for a brief moment and then he shrugs again. “Guess you’ll have to keep guessing then.”

“Fine. But it’s an actual reason?”

“Big one, too.” Clint turns his attention to his food and Bucky does the same, frowning down at his sandwich before finishing it off.

He doesn’t want to ask, but...it seems weird that Clint would do all this to break up with him. Bucky finishes his tea and turns the cup over in his hands, looking down at it, and when it turns it upside down, the price tag on the bottom says that it cost $30. For _one_ of the cups, and Clint bought at least two of them. Even Clint, who is somehow the worse one at relationships out of the two of them, wouldn’t pay $60 for two cups if he was going to break up with him. Clint sends him a smile before taking both of their plates to the sink.

“There’s still food, if you’re still hungry,” Clint calls back, and Bucky leans forward to poke through the bag on the counter. There’s another egg sandwich, which he unwraps and takes a bite of, and then a warmed cheese danish with frosting, which is Bucky’s favorite. He slowly pulls it out and stares down at it. There _has_ to be a special occasion, right? He has no idea what it could be.

“We don’t have anything to do today,” Clint tells him as he decides to leave the dishes in the sink and rejoins Bucky at the breakfast bar. Bucky frowns at him. “Want to watch a movie or go for a walk?”

“No training? Nothin’ from Steve?”

“There’s probably something from Steve, but he gave us the day off.”

Does he have _cancer?_ What the hell is going on? “ _Steve_ gave us the day off? Captain America Steve? Both of us? Is the world ending?”

“Hold on,” Clint says, raising both hands. “Do you really not know what day it is, Buck?”

“I thought it was a Tuesday,” he replies slowly.

“It’s Wednesday,” Clint replies. He’s wearing a tank top and short purple shorts that keep riding up over his thighs and it’s distracting, and he pats at his butt and hips looking for his phone. Bucky watches him walk around the apartment looking for it. “But not the day of the week. The actual date.”

“I know it’s March,” Bucky says. “You know I don’t like jokes about this.”

“I’m not joking around,” Clint groans. He finally finds his phone underneath one of the couch cushions and walks back to Bucky to show him the date. “It’s March 10th.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says slowly. “So?”

“Wait, hold on. You don’t know?”

“Know what?! How am I supposed to know anything?”

“Okay, fair, but come on, Buck. It’s your birthday.”

“My _birthday?_ ” Oh. Huh. Well that explains it. “Steve really gave us the day off because of my birthday?”

“I told him I had to give you 104 spankings, so yeah, he gave you the day off. Probably should’ve given you the week off, since you won’t be able to walk.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. He wants to cross his arms over his chest but stops himself, and then gives in and does it. He glares at Clint and drops his gaze back to Clint’s phone. Clint obligingly turns it around and shows him the date again. “Huh.” There’s no way he’s 104, but he does a little mental math and then shakes his head at himself. That’s so _old._ He wonders if the reason Clint isn’t cracking old man jokes is because someone warned him off it.

“I can check Twitter if you want, show you everyone wishing you a happy birthday.”

Bucky grimaces at the thought and shakes his head. He hates Twitter. “No thanks.” He lifts a hand up and scratches the back of his head. “That’s why you did all this,” he says, looking around at the heart-shaped mugs and thinking about the massage he’d woken up to. “Because it’s my birthday.”

“Yeah, I thought that was obvious.”

Bucky nods. For a moment he wants to tell Clint to stop it, to not make something out of nothing, but he thinks indulging a little won’t hurt anything, and doesn’t he deserve it by now? He doesn’t even remember the last time he celebrated his birthday. “No way you’re spanking me that many times.”

The fond smile on Clint’s face slides into something dirty. “Naw, it wasn’t spanking I had in mind.”

* * *

The headboard groans as Bucky pulls against it, gasping as his body shakes to another orgasm. Heat and lightning suffuses his body as he collapses against the bed, groaning. Clint smiles against his hole and slides in another finger. Bucky doesn’t know how long they’ve been going at it, but Clint had offered up 104 orgasms and Bucky had immediately shut him down. It would kill him. Good way to go but still, death and all. No thanks. But 104 minutes of rimming? Bucky figured that was the perfect birthday present.

But now, over an hour into it, Bucky is wholly regretting that decision. His entire body is coated with sweat and he has intermittent shivers and he’s never felt this fucked out in his life, even though all Clint has done is finger him and eat him out.

“Please,” he begs, not sure if he’s begging for Clint to stop or to continue. He hasn’t safe-worded out yet, so Clint keeps going, sucking and thrusting his tongue and spreading Bucky’s hole wide. Bucky has no idea how he has the stamina to keep going; his jaw and tongue have been doing some serious work and must be aching something fierce. One calloused finger glides over his prostate and Bucky gasps, hips twisting. He pushes back into Clint’s face and Clint obliges him, going deeper. “More,” Bucky demands with a growl.

Clint slides in another finger. Each one moves and presses against his insides and Bucky arches back up against them, wanting Clint even deeper inside of him. His hole pulses and aches and he just wants to be _full._

“How much more?” Clint asks, pulling away for just a moment. If Bucky wasn’t handcuffed to the bed, he’d reach back and shove Clint’s face back where it belongs. Bucky cranes back over his shoulder to look at him; Clint looks thoroughly pleased with himself, saliva running down his chin, and he seems unbothered by the fact that he has half of one hand up Bucky’s ass. “I have the heavy duty lube, I can fist you if you’d like.”

“Fuck,” Bucky swears, dropping his head back down to the pillow and groaning. Clint’s fingers wiggle inside of him and he whimpers.

“That’s not a no,” Clint replies cheerfully, leaning back down to ghost a breath over Bucky’s straining hole. “Let’s see how far this baby can stretch.”

“You’re the worst at dirty talk,” Bucky complains as Clint twists his hand around to slide in a fourth finger.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” Clint teases him. He manages to move Bucky’s hips up a little so he can lean his head down and nose over Bucky’s tender balls. He licks Bucky’s cock from underneath and Bucky lets out a hollow, wrecked groan. He really won’t be able to walk for a week, even with his advanced healing. His cock feels like it’s going to fall off with oversensitivity and Clint keeps lapping at the ridge underneath and the skin between his cock and his balls like he’s struck gold. It makes Bucky’s hips twitch and he wants Clint to sink into him until they fuse and—

“Fuck!” Bucky yells as Clint sucks one ball into his mouth and manages to slip his knuckles past Bucky’s rim at the same time. “Oh, god, _Clint_ —”

“Yeah,” Clint chuckles, pulling back. He tucks his thumb into his fingers and pats around on the bed until he finds the lube, running some of it around his hand and inside Bucky. “You remember when you did this to me? Woke me up one morning and told me you wanted to see how far you could stick your hand inside me?”

Bucky’s metal hand curls into a fist as he tries to keep still, panting around the sensations, his hole convulsing and spreading and sending shocks of pleasure and pain up his spine. He finally grunts out a wordless response.

“Yeah,” Clint says, fondness in his voice. “You fingered me until I was _crying._ ”

“You always cry,” Bucky grits out, voice sliding into a low-pitched moan as Clint pushes his hand in further. He can feel each and every knuckle, each and every piece of him spread so far out for Clint. “Little bitch.”

“Metal hand, too,” Clint continues like Bucky didn’t say anything. “I came so hard after that it got in my hair.” Bucky has no idea how he sounds so nonchalant when Bucky has orgasmed three times and feels another one approaching, but the casual tone of his voice coupled with the hand all the way up his ass makes Bucky’s gut clench. Clint’s hand slides in a little deeper, and Bucky whimpers. “I was wrung out for two days. Poor little guy couldn’t get up for nothin’.” Then his free hand comes up and gently traces over Bucky’s stretched rim. “Didn’t realize you were such a slut for it, Barnes.”

“F-fuck off.”

“Look at how open you are. You just opened right up for me.” Clint’s hand twists and Bucky gasps. “You think I could slide my cock in there too?”

He moans at the thought, hips twisting. He’s so full right now it feels like he can barely speak, his guts all twisted up and forced to make room for Clint’s hand. Clint moves in further and there’s the last knuckle of his thumb, of his _huge fucking hand_ , and Clint makes a soft sound as he spreads more lube over Bucky’s straining hole. Every time he moves his hand inside Bucky, it makes a slick squelch, the sound almost dirty somehow, reminding Bucky that—

“Thinkin’ about plugging you up after this,” Clint tells him. “We have that big one that you haven’t been able to fit before. Remember when we tried?”

“Remember you cryin’,” Bucky manages to get out. He’d fucked Clint into the next week and then plugged him up and Clint had wanted a bigger plug, so Bucky had found the biggest one they had, and it was a _monster_ , practically as big as a fist itself. He squeezes his eyes shut at the thought of having that huge thing in his ass, thinking about Clint pressing his hand against it and slowly fucking him with it while sucking him off, thinking about Clint laying him over the back of the couch and sliding the plug out and filling him up again with his cock.

Clint stops moving his hand and Bucky’s eyes flash open.

“Please,” falls out of his mouth before he’s even aware of what he’s doing. “ _Deeper_. I need—Clint, I need—” He’s too worn out and overstimulated to push back into it, he just has to lay there and take it, and he _wants—_

“Just seemed like you got distracted, that’s all,” Clint says. He moves a little and then his fingers twitch and there’s the slick sound of Bucky’s hole opening even further and Clint sliding even deeper and Bucky’s vision goes white.

When he comes back to himself, he’s empty. It feels like he got hit with a firetruck, sparkles racing up and down his arms and legs and back and chest, and then there are warm hands on his hips, hiking them up.

“Gonna fuck you now,” Clint tells him cheerfully, and Bucky can only moan as Clint’s wide cock slides in. “Oh _fuck._ ”

“Good?” Bucky slurs, not even trying to push back into Clint’s slow thrusts. Clint is a little shorter than he is, but he’s broader and a bit more muscular nowadays, and he’s so heavy on top of Bucky that Bucky feels like he’s the only thing weighing him down. His eyes roll back in his head and he pants as Clint slowly slides in and out of him, the only thing he’s aware of is Clint’s cock inside of him.

He can feel his hole clinging to Clint as he slowly pulls out, as if his body doesn’t want to be empty, and Clint swears under his breath and fucks back into him. Bucky feels beyond desperate for it. Clint pulls completely out and hikes Bucky’s hips up higher and manages to slide just a little underneath Bucky and rub their cocks together, Bucky’s limp one against Clint’s hard one, and Bucky’s hole _gapes_ open and all he wants is to be full again. He doesn’t even realize he’s begging for it until Clint fills him back up again and lays down on top of him, fully pressing him down, stretching and bringing up his hands—one of them was _inside of him_ —and grasping Bucky’s where they’re handcuffed to the headboard.

He’s covered completely, head to toe, surrounded and full and warm and Clint bites down on his shoulder as he comes, hips twisting, grunting against Bucky as he fills him up. Clint lays there for a moment, panting, and then he slides out and Bucky _whines._

“Yeah, yeah,” Clint mutters. His fingers are soft as he examines Bucky’s hole for any tears, and satisfied with what he finds, he lubes up the biggest plug they have and slides it home.

* * *

When Bucky blinks back to awareness, he’s under the covers and clean and warm, and one of Clint’s arms is wrapped around his waist. He turns and presses his face to Clint’s neck and slides his arms around him and holds him tight.

“Buck?” comes Clint’s sleep addled voice a few minutes later. “You ‘wake?”

“Back hurts again,” Bucky murmurs, smiling when Clint’s warm hands immediately move to start gently stroking his back. The plug feels like a baseball is inside of him and Bucky moans when Clint reaches down to make sure it’s properly seated in place. “Feels good,” he sighs, “feels full.”

Clint chuckles in his ear and turns them so Bucky is laying fully on top of him, Clint on his back. Bucky looks over and sees the two heart-shaped mugs on the nightstand, both filled with steaming coffee and tea for the two of them. One hand strokes gently down his back and the other plays with the plug, moving it just enough for Bucky to not be able to think about anything else. “Good birthday present?” Clint asks.

“Better have gotten me another present,” Bucky grumbles, but he lifts up and presses a kiss to Clint’s mouth, Clint obediently opening for him and letting Bucky set the pace as he slowly and languorously explores Clint’s mouth. When he finally pulls back, Clint’s eyes are bright and there’s a flush on his cheeks. It’s cute. Bucky wants to fuck him until he passes out. “And I think you still owe me more rimming.”

“As you wish, birthday boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! please leave comments and kudos
> 
> follow me:  
> tumblr: @deluxemycroft  
> twitter: @whenhedied


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